Molly
by dreaming-up-fantasies
Summary: Molly gets a surprise visit from Jim Moriarty. Remember Jim? Yeah, the insane lunatic.
1. Chapter 1

Clatter. Molly sighed as she bent over to pick up a dropped tool. She should've known the only person to barge into the lab was Sherlock. He started in demanding what he needed and a ruffled John came hurrying in behind him. Those were the only two that ever visited her.

"Sorry, what?" She asked as she stood back up and put the paperwork down.

"The body of Mark Murdock. Can you roll it out?"

"Oh. I've just put him back though," she said without thinking.

"Molly," he drawled. Sherlock had a special way of saying her name. "Is that a new haircut?" He asked. He knew it wasn't. It was fake flattery and she knew it but Molly still found herself saying,"No, hang on while I go to get him."

Black curly hair covered Sherlock's forehead that was bent over a microscope while his hand scribbled out notes.

"Here he is," she said in a small voice. He didn't move. John smiled in thanks as she stared at the two and went back to her paperwork. But whenever he was here she couldn't concentrate on her work that didn't involve him.

Molly couldn't help but glance up at him every few minutes to watch him work. His sharp features moved as he visibly thought aloud, muttering to himself. Suddenly his head jerked up and his icy blue eyes peered into hers. Blushing, she quickly looked down. He had caught her staring. He already knew she did that often so why did he look? Oh, he had remembered the body she got out for him earlier.

"Unzip him," he indicated to Molly. She rushed around the lab table and unzipped the face area of the man.

"More," he said while John came over. She did and gasped. Over where his heart rested, cold and not beating, was a drawing carved into his skin. "That wasn't there a little bit ago!" She exclaimed.

"Flames? Fire?" John questioned aloud while Sherlock strode away, thinking quickly. His head popped up. "Of course!" He said got out his sleek phone from its equally dark coat pocket and started punching away on it.

"What does it mean?" John asked Sherlock but he didn't answer so he turned to Molly to thank her.

"Thanks. He appreciates it too," he said.

"It's no problem. What's going on in the case?" She asked.

"Man committed suicide. But Sherlock thinks it was murder," John replied, glancing over at the detective that was grasping his hair with his long fingers.

"Who came in to carve that? Some was here and I didn't even know..." Molly said nervously.

John hesitated before saying,"The, uh, the case is mostly likely associated with Moriarty's spider web, as Sherlock calls it."

"Moriarty?" Molly said worriedly. Fear swept over her insides. He had been here. No, maybe it was one of his hunchmen. That had to be it.

"Nothing to worry about," John said, noticing her change of attitude.

"Yes!" Sherlock exclaimed and walked out of the lab quickly.

"Looks like he found something. Got to go but thanks again Molly," John called out as he followed him. She envied him. He got to spend the whole day with Sherlock on exciting cases while she was stuck in the lab worrying about Moriarty.

She finished up the loads of paperwork and wiped down the lab. Molly was usually the last one here and tonight she was more aware of how dark it was and how quiet and how very much alone she was.

Molly hailed a cab and it took her back to her small cluttered flat where Toby greeted her and trotted over to his food bowl. She left her keys on the table and went to take care of her cat. Buzzing sounded on the table so she jumped up and chided herself not to be so jumpy as it was only her phone vibrating. John had sent her a text asking if she was alright. Molly looked around her flat. It was dark and there were piles of books and clothes everywhere. She really did need to tidy up, but not now. Instead she replied that she was ok to John and went to bed falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next day she woke up nice and early as usual to get started on her long work day ahead. Today it was a long double shift she was going to be working. St. Bart's was unusually busy so she didn't get a break at all and at lunch Sherlock and John stopped by.

"Hello Molly," Sherlock said as he walked in.

"Hi," she said back but he was already ignoring her at the microscope. John sat next to her.

"What's it now?" She asked him.

"I don't know what he's off about. He had two cases come in and I'm doing one of them. He's doing the other. Sherlock's just identifying some substances I found," John said and as of right on cue Sherlock brushed past them and handed John paper with different things scrawled on them.

"Well better get going, have a good day," John said and left. Sherlock was already gone but not even ten minutes later he was back.

"Forget something?" Molly asked.

"No. I wanted to make sure he was gone," he said while sitting back down.

"Oh," she said quietly and looked down at her paperwork. It was so boring but she was behind and decided to work on it at her lunch break.

"Can I see the security camera footage from last night?" He asked her.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can get that for you," she replied honestly. He nodded, picked up his phone, and left to find someone who could.

Alone again, she thought. The rest of the day went by slowly and it was late at night before she started to clean up. At least tomorrow she was off for the whole day. Maybe she could go out. Or maybe she could spend her day with Toby the cat.

Then the door opened and with a sigh Molly said,"Sherlock ,I'm about to go home. Come back tomorrow or use your own microscope!" She grouched, surprised at her outburst.

"Sherlock? No, no. Besides, you won't be going home tonight," a familiar high pitches voice drawled. Fear rose inside of her as she spun around to see a short man with wide brown eyes.

"You."

"Yes. Nice to see you again, Molly. Now that isn't much of a greeting," he said.

"What do you want? Stay away from me!" Molly said with fear obvious in her shaky voice. She backed up but was stopped by the lab table as he began to walk forward.

"I only want you," he said as he took a gun out of his grey suit pocket. "Molly, dear, don't make me use this. Come with me," he said softly. Molly didn't move. His smile slid off of his face as he raised his gun a little higher. As scared as she was, she didn't want to die and hesitantly stepped forward a little with small steps.

"That's it," he urged. Suddenly, and honestly without giving much thought to the plan, she lunged forward for his gun and grabbed it out of his hands. But he was faster and held her arm behind her back and squeezed the other until she dropped it and it clattered to the ground. He was stronger than she realized.

"More feisty, I see. Good," he said to her ear. Moriarty had Molly's arms twisted behind her as he held her close. And oh god, he was so close. She smelled sickening peppermint from him.

"I like feisty," he said and pecked a kiss on her cheek before walking backwards. Another man came out of the shadows and picked up the dropped gun.

They walked her out to a black car waiting out front and she sat in the back while they sat in the front. She was so scared. What did he want? If he was trying to get at Sherlock it wouldn't work. He wouldn't know she was missing. No one would, in fact. And with that thought her stomach sunk. No one would be able to come and get her if they didn't realize she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn't see out the black widows so she didn't know how long it had been or where they were. Hours later the car rolled to a stop and Moriarty's face peered through the window as he opened the door.

"Out you get," he sang. She got out as instructed and looked at the huge mansion in front of them. It was old but modern looking. They were in the middle of nowhere with nothing but rolling lands around.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" He said as he prodded her to walk forward. They entered under the looming arc.

"This is where you'll be staying for a while."

"Did you kill the owners or something?" Molly asked.

"No, I bought it myself," he said lost in thought.

"Why am I here? Sherlock isn't going to come looking for me. He won't realize I'm gone," She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"To rekindle our romance, no? You're going to love this. But you are right. Sherlock should be in Italy by now. I am leading him here eventually but when I do, you'll be moved. The case John is working on I set it up for it to take him here. Once Sherlock finishes his case, which I didn't set up but it was good timing, he'll eventually notice John is gone and come out here for him. That's where I'll burn the heart out of him."

Then suddenly he demanded that she give him her phone. Ahh! She had completely forgotten about it. How stupid! Molly didn't move to get it for him so he pulled out his gun and she found the words,"Go ahead and shoot me," tumbling out of her mouth. No! Why did she just say that? He turned his head to the side in confusion and lowered the gun. She froze in fear. He's a maniac, remember Molly!

"No, I could never do that," he said as he moved closer to her. She backed away from him but ran into a wall. He smirked and walked slowly closer and suddenly striked like a snake. He moved quickly to pin her hands to the wall and move them above her head so one of his hands held her two while his free hand invaded her personal space and searched all of her pockets for her phone, though he knew very well where it was. A shiny silver phone was in his hand as he held it up for her to see, dropped it, and smashed it with his foot. He let go of her hands while she pushed herself closer to the wall to get away from him.

"Molly, I don't understand. You know me. It's Jim. Remember, we had coffee together once," he breathed in her face. Her chest rose rapidly up and down to keep up with her fearful breathing.

"Yes, I know. And I also know your insane," she said with sudden boldness but he just smiled happily instead. Without warning his lips crashed into hers and his hands held her shoulders in place so she couldn't wriggle away. His phone started ringing. She bit his tongue and he jerked back with anger alight in his eyes. He about yelled something but instead spat blood down at her shoes and answered his phone with a "WHAT?!"

He looked back at Molly and snapped his fingers at a guard who showed her to her room upstairs. It was actually a nice room with brown and red furnishings. There was a big bed and an attached bathroom. The guard left and locked the door behind her. Shaken, she sat on the bed and held her head in her hands. How long was this going to last? What else was he going to do?

The door burst open and Molly jumped up in surprise and in defense. Moriarty came in looking irritated. "So, something very serious business has come up and I have to leave. But you'll be taken care of very well until I get back in a few days. See you then," he sang his last farewell and exited the room. Relief flooded her. At least he was leaving!

Later that day a guard brought in food that she didn't eat. Instead she searched the room for any kind of weapon but found none. There were books though so she took one out and started to read it, eventually dozing off out of boredom. She woke a few hours later from a nightmare and stayed awake. It was night, she guessed, but she didn't sleep.

Two more days went by. Eventually she gave in and ate the food the guards brought up. It was good food she just wasn't hungry. Most of the time she just stared at the ceiling. Then a new younger guard came in that she hasn't seen before. He instructed her that his boss was coming back today and she should freshen up for dinner. The man left and reluctantly she did go shower, wondering if she drowned herself in the tub if it would be worth it.

When Molly got out of the shower she was mad. They had come in and taken her clothes! In its place was a revealing green dress that she had no choice but to put on.

She sat on her bed until a guard came to get her and guide her down to the dinner table. Molly sat in a chair opposite Moriarty. Her left hand was tied to the chair arm.

"You've been too feisty for my liking," he explained. "But you do look lovely."

"It's not like I had much of a choice," she retorted. Food was brought out and they mostly ate in silence. It was very good food though, she thought grudgingly.

He stood up when they were done and walked over to her. "Molly," he said softly and tilted her chair back onto two feet. She shrieked and her free hand flew in the air trying to grab onto an invisible bar. He held and lowered it, grabbing her free hand and leaning down to kiss her. She protested in little ways and he pulled away.

"Enough now. Later," he whispered, mainly to himself, and walked off. Molly was just glad the chair was back on solid ground.

She paced around her room later that evening. There had to be something she could do! Some way to get out! Molly searched more thoroughly this time but found no weapons or no way to unlock the door.

The guard gave her a new change of clothes. They were still ridiculous but at least they weren't a dress. He left her alone the next day but she sat in the corner in fearful anticipation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: So I'm not entirely proud of this story but somehow I ended up writing it. And I'm just adding to it for the so many of you that are following it, thank you! I regret publishing it but feel the need to publish what I've already written, which is a lot, so I hope you like it! And thanks for the reviews! **

Another day passed by. Molly sat in the corner wondering what day it was when the door swung open and Moriarty stood there with glazed eyes. He's drunk. He swaggered in towards her. She stood up to go around him but he grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly.

"Where are you going?" He asked playfully and pulled her back towards him. Feeling sick, she was scared about how this was to go and played along though she was about to throw up. Maybe he'd eventually pass out.

"Nowhere," she purred and batted her eyelashes. Was that how people flirted? She couldn't remember. She'd give what he wanted, maybe he'll leave her alone...or maybe come back for more, a small voice echoed inside of her. His chin rested on her shoulder as he held her waist from behind. They swayed back and forth to soft music.

"Do you think you could get me a drink?" Molly asked coyly, or at least she hoped it was. It worked. His hands disappeared and he replied with an of course and left the room. That's when she started to freak out. What was she doing?! What was going to happen? A drunken psychopath was not a good thing.

He came back with two bottles and the door locked behind him from a guard in the hallway. She took one and took a drink while he did the same. Then he set the bottle down and stood up to get closer to her.

Moriarty wrapped and interlocked his fingers around her waist again but this time he was facing her. The strong smell of alcohol was in Molly's face. She put her hands on his chest to push him away but instead he pulled her closer to him. And again their lips crashed. Molly felt like crying but she gave in, hoping dearly that if he drank more he'd just pass out. At least he was too drunk to notice she was willingly doing this. If he was sober he'd know something was wrong and that she had a plan.

He started getting more intense and she became breathless. Somehow he had picked her up and sat her on the table. Her lips broke away from his and she grabbed a bottle and took a swig from it, not much though. He grinned and did the same with big gulps. Then it began again with even more intensity and he began moving down her neck. It hurt. He held onto her arms and his grip on them was even strong that it hurt.

She stared ahead. How long was this going to go on before he passed out? And suddenly she knew the direction this was heading and her stomach dropped as his grip from her arms released and he was tugging at the bottom of her shirt.

"No," she breathed but he had picked her up and brought her into a corner in the room. That's when finally a scream escaped from her and she began fighting him. But he was strong and managed to get it off. Molly swung blindly at him and he delivered a kick to the back of her knees making her fall to the ground. She was crying by now as he held a gun to her head while he undressed himself but left his underwear on. Then he went back to her and fought to get the rest of the clothes off. He won with the advantage of a gun, firing it in the air when she refused. But her underwear was still on.

He forced her to move to the bed and she moved quickly. That's when he unhooked her bra and threw it in a pile with the rest of her clothes. The door screeched open and she shrieked. A guard came in but ignored the two of them, scooping up her clothes in a trashcan and to her horror dropped a lit match in it, setting them on fire.

It went on all night with her screaming and crying and begging. He was so strong and pinned her down, stroking her hair and then flying into a drunken rage. She was almost relieved. It was kissing and bruising and not sex but it was still awful. Moriarty finally passed out drunken on top of her so she couldn't move and barely could breathe. She couldn't sleep but kept her eyes closed because Molly couldn't bare to see him. Fat tears streamed down her face but she didn't make a sound. She didn't want to wake him.

Hours later there were loud noises coming from downstairs. She jumped when she heard guns ringing out. What was going on? Moriarty had woken up and dashed into the bathroom, muttering, "Shit." Molly held the sheets up over her but he didn't even glance towards her as he retrieved a gun from under the bed.

Then she became aware that there was heavy fighting going on. Screams and grunts and loud noises drifted up through the stairs and they seemed to be coming closer. Molly brought her knees up to her and held the sheets over in anticipation of who was coming. Someone dangerous had found Moriarty and she could be sure that they wouldn't hesitate to kill her. But there was nothing she could do. Anyway, she's already been through hell.

Moriarty stayed in front of the door, knowing whoever was there that they were getting closer. The anticipation and anxiousness was killer. Molly was scared and fearful, but no more tears could leak from her eyes. Suddenly the door was kicked down from the other side and standing there was Sherlock, tall and wild.

"Don't you come any closer," he warned with a gun steadying on Sherlock's head of curls. His eyes locked with Molly's in the bed for a fraction of a second and widened before he lunged at Moriarty. The gun trigger was pulled but it missed Sherlock who threw the gun away from him. It slid underneath the bed to its original home. He was fast but so was Moriarty.

They struggled on the floor kicking and punching. Moriarty grabbed a lamp and smashed it over Sherlock's head who in return grabbed a chair to hit him with. There was still fighting outside but Molly was focused on this one, willing Sherlock to beat him senseless. Sherlock was hit many times but his rage gave him the advantage and he had the criminal pinned to the floor beating his face repeatedly.

Sherlock Holmes, who was usually so void of feelings, had emotion oozing out of him during that fight. A different bigger man came in and pulled Sherlock off of him. Molly was scared it had been a guard but they seemed to know each other. Sherlock gave him a last swift kick then rushed out of the room. The man dragged Moriarty away too.

Molly rested her head on the wooden headboard relieved. It was over. He was gone and Sherlock actually came for her. He was in the hallway and it sounded like he was arguing with John.

"Maybe I should do this," John said. Sherlock's voice was quiet but the deep baritone carried. He said, "No. I can." John sighed and replied, "You need to do it carefully, Sherlock. You don't know exactly what..." John said and trailed away. They went at it for a few more minutes but Molly didn't listen. She hasn't realized how exhausted she was. The day at the hospital had been a long, tiring one and she refused to sleep here unless she fell asleep for only a few hours.

Someone came in and she reluctantly opened her eyes to see Sherlock walk past her and into the bathroom. And Molly suddenly realized what condition she was in. Almost naked with bruises all over and a scrape from his nails. Red creeped into her face as she pulled the sheets higher up but they were thin.

He came back and held out a towel. "Molly...Are you alright?" He said while his eyes flitted over her body and around the room landing on the empty bottles and knocked over trash can.

"Yes," she said in a scratchy voice while looking away from his piercing eyes.

"There aren't any more clothes," he said awkwardly and held out a towel. Oh, right. She had to get up now but she didn't want to. Not with him in here. Molly reluctantly took it and got out on the other side of the bed so all he saw was her bare back. Until she fell when trying to stand up and her knees gave up on her.

With her face a deep red she grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her while Sherlock appeared in front of her.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

"No," she replied embarrassed. That was a lie but she'd be fine eventually. On her own she stood back up and felt to the extent how sore she was. Her muscles tingled with her bruises. Sherlock quickly took off his coat and put it around her himself despite her protests. Molly would have loved him doing that on any other day but today. While she buttoned it up the towel fell to the floor.

"Oh, no," she muttered weakly.

"Can you walk?" He asked.

"Yes," Molly replied flustered. He was talking down to her. He always did that but right now she really hated it. Her foot moved forward to show him she could walk but apparently he was unpleased as he scooped her up in his black coat and began walking.

Even more embarrassed, she told him to put her down but he didn't listen. "Sherlock!" She exclaimed to no response.

"Oh god, Molly! Are you ok?" John said rushing over.

"Yes, I'm fine! Put me down!" She said to him and Sherlock.

"Molly, I'm a doctor. I can help. Are you ok?" He said again.

"I know and yes!" She said, almost dying of embarrassment. Molly almost never had this much attention nor did she want it. John eyed her but shut up. They went down the stairs and outside. Luckily, she hadn't noticed all the dead or injured guards lying around. She did notice that the car they came in was destroyed so they took Moriarty's with all black windows.


	4. Chapter 4

She slid into the backseat with John as Sherlock drove. "Can I see? Please?" John begged for the hundredth time it seemed. He had noticed the bruises on her neck and wanted to inspect her shoulders. Molly refused and popped the collar of the coat as Sherlock often did. In the mirror she saw him almost crack a smile.

The car stopped and Sherlock got out and locked the doors as John was about to open the door. He huffed and waited.

"H-how did you find me?" Molly asked John.

"Sherlock finished his case quickly and started bugging me about the details on mine. The security footage at St. Bart's finally came in and well...we saw you in it," he finished slowly. At least Moriarty's plan hadn't worked.

The detective came back and slammed the trunk shut then slid back into the driver's seat. The car rolled away from wherever they just were at. Finally the car stopped again and they all got out. 221 B Baker Street.

"No, I want to go to my flat," Molly said confused as John helped her out.

"Not safe there," Sherlock replied going to the back to pull out a torn up purple suitcase that looked a lot like her own.

"What? I'm staying here? No!" Molly protested meekly.

"Yes." He finished.

"I could have packed myself!" She exclaimed looking at the suitcase.

"Get the cat in the trunk," Sherlock instructed John who furrowed his eyebrows.

"The what?" He said but got no answer from Sherlock who was already guiding a protesting Molly to the building.

"You can't park there!" A man shouted at Sherlock who threw the keys behind him.

"Tow it then!" He smarted off and went inside. Sherlock carried Molly up the stairs.

"What was that for?" She exclaimed.

"It's quicker," he replied, leading her to a room. It was a nice room with rich and dark decor. Then she realized.

"This is your room?"

"Obviously," he said placing the suitcase on the bed for her.

"But where will you-" she started but he cut her off and replied with,"The couch. I don't sleep much. The cat, however, cannot come in this room."

"Cat?" Molly questioned then burst out of his room to see a ruffled John holding an even more ruffled cat.

"Toby!" She cried and rushed to him. Molly held him and instantly he was some sort of comfort to her.

"You put him in the trunk?" Molly asked angrily.

"A bloody cat, Sherlock!" John hissed at Sherlock who shrugged.

"Why did you bring him?" She asked.

"Don't want him to starve, do you?"

"I'm going home tomorrow," she said.

"No, your staying here for a while," he finished. She stared at him defiantly then walked back to his room with Toby in her arms.

Later John knocked at her door to tell her where the shower was. She thanked him and went to it. A hand went to quiet her involuntary gasp at seeing herself in the mirror. It truly was a bad sight. Looking away she let the hot water sting and wash away all the awfulness that happened recently. But she kept seeing his eyes everywhere and was afraid he'd come back for her. Maybe it was better she was staying here.

Molly wrapped a towel around her securely before peeking out in the hall before she would rush back into the bedroom. But John was standing there. The door quickly shut.

"Wait! Molly, listen. I'm not going to hurt or touch you. Ok? I just want to look as a doctor," he said from the hallway. Knowing he wouldn't go away soon, she slowly opened the door and let him in.

He kept his promise. He didn't touch her or say anything but there was disbelief and hurt in his eyes as he looked at the bruises.

"You need to go to the hospital," he said. What?

"No, I'm fine!" She exclaimed.

"Molly, I know what happened, ok? You need checked out," he said awkwardly but firmly. She furrowed her eyebrows. Oh! She knows what he's talking about.

In an outburst before returning back to the room she said,"No, it wasn't, h-he didn't have sex, John!" No, she thought to herself back in the safety of Sherlock's room, he just forced every other part of him onto her.

She sat on the bed and dressed in pajamas. She really should go and thank them but her head is becoming foggy as being so exhausted and Molly falls asleep.

Sherlock knocks softly at the door where there's no answer. He opens it anyway while holding a cup of tea. Apparently she didn't need it to fall asleep. Toby was perched at the end of the bed, Sherlock noticed unhappily, as Molly wriggled in a fitful sleep. He closed the door and went back to sprawl out on the couch himself.

Molly woke up with a start drenched in sweat. She looked around as if waiting to see where Moriarty would jump out of. But he didn't. It was Sherlock's bedroom, not the other. Her head was groggy and her eyes pounded. That's what she felt until she sat up. When she sat up everything rushed back to her. Not like she would forget it anytime soon, her dreams had been plagued with him. Molly wished she could've woken up so she didn't have to relive the horror but sleep had drugged her under too much for her to resurface.

She stood up shakily and walked around the room a little bit to steady herself. Molly didn't want Sherlock carrying her again even though he was very strong. Much more strong than a person would realize from looking at his thin frame. _No! Stop it Molly. You don't want to be around anymore men for a long time. _

Her suitcase was on a chair and she went to dig through it. A light pink jumper was carefully slid on and casual pants. No sound was coming from anywhere so walked down the hall into the main room. John was sat in a chair reading the newspaper and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

"Hi John," she said while she sat down across from him. He looked up.

"Hello Molly. Sleep well?"

"Oh, yes. Where is, uh-" Molly begun.

"Sherlock? He got a new case this morning. You're lucky. You wouldn't want to be here all day when he's bored. Bloody nightmare," John said folding up the newspaper. Molly nodded in agreement and went up to get a drink.

"What time is it, John?" She asked from the kitchen.

"11," he called back. A panic washed through her. She never woke up this late! How could she have slept that long? Molly was really tired and exhausted but…

"Oh, no. I'm very late," she muttered worriedly.

"Late for what?" John said.

"Work!" She said.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You're not going to work today."

"Why not?" She asked, wheeling around to look at him in anger.

"You-oh. He didn't tell you. Sherlock called in sick for you so you'd have some time off," John replied, looking over her visible skin to see how she was doing. She noticed and turned out self-consciously and walked to the kitchen.

"Oh," Molly said and started to make tea.

He could've told her. She was a bit angry at him, only a bit, but at least he was right. Molly wasn't really in any condition today to work. She was sore and wanted nothing more than to hide in a corner with Toby, away from everyone. Even Sherlock and John but it didn't seem like they'd be letting her leave soon. She could, of course, leave if she really wanted to but they were very persuasive when they wanted to be.

She went to sit across from John in Sherlock's chair. It even smelled like him. He always smelled nice. Her head shook slowly to stop thinking about him. Suddenly the room became very small. Everything was shrinking. The walls were coming towards her. Her head was spinning. He was coming. Moriarty was going to come out and-.

No, she thought. They were just wild notions her brain was twisting around. John was here. John wouldn't let anyone hurt her. He was like a fussy older brother. Nevertheless, Molly stood up suddenly. John looked up from his newspaper. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. After a few seconds she put down the cuppa and went to Sherlock's room to find some shoes in her suitcase.

After slipping them on she walked swiftly past John and called out, "I'm going out." She was gone before he could answer. It wasn't the best idea maybe, but she had to get out. She needed to get away from people. Molly walked down the crowded streets and solely wandered around.


End file.
